All Hallow's Eve
by Cae Thomas aka CNL
Summary: Man is least himself when he talks in his own person. Give him a mask, and he will tell you the truth.


There was no holiday Harry Potter hated more than Halloween. And, at the moment, there was no person he hated more than Hermione Granger. He hated her for dragging him along to this stupid party. He hated her for making him wear those stupid dress robes. And he hated her even more for the fucking silver mask hiding his face.

"Would you stop sulking?" Hermione hissed, elbowing him in the ribs as she smiled sweetly at the Minister of Magic.

"Why did you drag me here?" Harry growled. "You know I hate these sorts of things."

"I thought it'd be good for you. You haven't done anything fun for months."

"I have plenty of fun, thank you."

"Yes, because wanking by yourself in a dark room every other night must be a jolly good time."

"Hermione!" Harry gaped at her, eyes wide.

"You listen to me, Harry Potter," she said, rounding on him. "You're going to stay at this party until I tell you it's alright to leave and you are going to put your best effort into enjoying yourself, do you hear me?" Harry blinked at her and nodded. "Good. I'm going to go and talk to some co-workers and work my way around the room. I don't suppose you'll want to join me, so try and keep yourself out of trouble." She marched off across the crowd. Harry fought the urge to stick his tongue out at her back.

He stared blankly at the crowded entrance hall for several long moments before sighing and headed into the ball room. If he was going to have to face this crowd all night, he needed a stiff drink. Or twenty.

The ballroom was even more crowded. Harry bit back a groan and made his way around the edge of the room to the bar on the other side. All across the center of the room couples in glittering, flowing robes and gowns twirled and dipped to the sounds of the orchestra in the corner. Harry fought back the urge to gag and ordered himself a glass of scotch. It was going to be a long night.

Three drinks later, he was beginning to feel the tingle of a slight buzz coming over him. He was leaning with his back against the bar, watching the mass of dancing bodies weaving across the floor. He shook his head and set his empty glass down, ready to order a forth, when a figure from across the room caught his eye. The crowd had parted at just the right moment, leaving a direct view of the doorway. A tall man in fitted black dress robe—expensive, from the looks—had just stepped into the ballroom. An emerald mask covered his face from the nose up, setting off his shining blonde hair. His eyes landed on Harry, and the brunette swallowed hard.

'Fucking hell,' he thought, watching the charismatic blonde cross the room. He was headed right for him, not even bothering to go around the crowd. He was cutting right through the middle of the dance floor. Harry felt his pulse quicken. Before he knew it the man was before him, grinning down at him. His silver eyes smoldered behind the mask.

"Enjoying your evening?" he asked, his voice smooth as silk. Harry fought to keep his eyes from fluttering shut.

"Er…uhm…" Harry cleared his throat. "Y-yeah. I suppose." The blonde chuckled.

"Social gatherings like this aren't really my thing," he admitted. "I'm not fond of the way people always gossip and schmooze, trying to worm their way into everyone's good graces. But I'll admit I'm glad I came tonight. Who'd have known I'd meet someone so gorgeous as yourself." Harry thought he might drown in those eyes. He didn't even care how cliché that last bit had been. He was hooked. "Would you care to dance?"

Harry looked down at the pale hand offered to him and let his own slide into it without hesitation. The blonde grinned wider and led him into the center of the floor. They twirled and spun through the weaving crowd. Harry felt as though he were gliding across the floor. Whoever this man was, he was possibly the best dancer he'd ever seen.

"You dance beautifully," the blonde said. Harry laughed.

"Only because I'm not leading," he replied with a grin. The blonde smiled.

"I'm sure you're wonderful." Harry lost track of time as he stared into those deep, glistening silver eyes. They seemed familiar somehow, but he couldn't seem to place them. Before he knew it, the clock was striking twelve.

The blonde led him from the dance floor and out of the ballroom. He followed him up the grand staircase and down a long corridor. At the end, an intricate set of French doors stood open, revealing a marble balcony overlooking the vast gardens. Moonlight bathed the flowers and fountains below with a soft white glow. Harry breathed deep the brisk fall air, feeling his night couldn't possibly get more magical. The blonde turned to face him, pressed a hand to Harry's cheek. Emerald eyes met silver, melding together as the men gazed at each other.

"You've made this night incredible," he whispered, his breath warm against Harry's skin. Harry felt his eyes flutter closed and the blonde rested their foreheads together.

"I have to admit," Harry said softly, "I've always hated Halloween. I think you might have changed that." The blonde smirked.

"Have I? Perhaps this will improve it even further…" And then his lips were on Harry's and the rest of the world disappeared. Harry let the man pull him into his arms and felt himself melt into the warmth of the body pressed against his own. He was quite sure nothing could be better than this. They parted after several long moments. The blonde stroked Harry's cheek gently. "Happy Halloween, Potter," he whispered. He turned and walked away down the hall, leaving Harry stunned on the balcony. In that moment, he placed the silver eyes.

"Malfoy?"

* * *

**Author's Note**

Who saw that coming? *raises hand* Oh, wait... I don't count. : )


End file.
